Chapter 4

Kids grow up fast, though. That's the thing nobody warns you about.

Cassian's whole detached, ice-in-his-veins thing turned out to be hereditary, because by the time I looked up, Atlas wasn't my sweet, clingy little boy anymore. He was a miniature version of his father. Quiet. Closed off. Cold before his time.

He had a rough set of allergies, nuts and dairy both, serious enough that one wrong bite could land him in the ER. So I was strict about food. Watched every label. Said no a lot.

He hated that.

And slowly, he started pulling away from me and gravitating toward the one adult in his life who never told him no: Blair.

There was this one fight I had with Cassian. I remember exactly how it started.

"Blair stood up in a meeting today and accused me of stealing her proposal. Told me to apologize or she'd make sure I got fired."

"Except I know for a fact that proposal is mine. You're the one who helped her rewrite it, piece by piece. You gave her my file, didn't you?"

"How could you do that to me?"

Cassian rubbed his temple and looked at me like I was being unreasonable.

"You're only making this into an issue because she's my ex. That's it, isn't it?"

"This is retroactive jealousy. Do you want me to find you a therapist?"

I lost it. Full meltdown, shaking, calling him every name I could think of. And of course, right on cue, the tears came too, ruining whatever dignity I had left.

Kids pick up more than people think.

And that's exactly the moment Atlas, who was already a little tired of me by then, learned something important.

That his mom could be treated like this.

That Aunt Blair was always, always the innocent one.

So he started copying his father. In every single disagreement between Blair and me, he took her side. Defended her without question. Shut me out, blamed me, needled at me.

He genuinely started to enjoy watching me come apart.

That went on for two years.

Cassian never left me for Blair, not officially, but I was running on empty regardless.

The thing that finally broke me was the second promotion cycle.

By then I'd been at the company seven years. Reliable, respected, the kind of employee clients specifically asked for by name. But everyone who'd started around the same time as me had either gotten promoted or gotten a raise. I hadn't moved an inch. My pay had actually gone down.

At that point, people around the office felt sorrier for me than they laughed at me, which tells you something.

I threw myself into that second promotion. Ninety percent approval. First place, no contest.

I told myself, okay, surely this time it's locked in. Cassian's only got the one ex. It's not like there's a second Blair waiting in the wings.

There wasn't a second Blair.

There was a man.

Parachuted in. My job, again, gone in an instant.

Furious, I stormed upstairs to confront Cassian about it. And that's when I heard it, rounding the corner by his office: Blair's voice, warm and delighted, greeting the guy like an old friend.

"Grant! Oh my god, it's really you."